


Find Me

by gaytriforce



Series: Maze Runner Fix-Its [1]
Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Boys In Love, Fix-It, Fix-It Newt, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fuck Thomas 2021, Gen, M/M, Newt (Maze Runner) Lives, Post-Canon Fix-It, Teresa redemption, Teresa rights 2021, bookverse, minewt, mix of movie and book canon, mlm, movieverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:42:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29119920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaytriforce/pseuds/gaytriforce
Summary: In which Newt manages to find his way home once again.
Relationships: Minho/Newt (Maze Runner)
Series: Maze Runner Fix-Its [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2136645
Comments: 7
Kudos: 32





	Find Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This fic has a mix of book and movie elements. The major things are that Newt and Teresa both have their movie deaths, but the Flat Trans and other minor book elements survive here in order to make things easier for me. The serum/cure exists as in the movies, I just diverged from its canon usage for this fix-it. Happy reading!

On their third day in Paradise, someone stumbled into their little civilization.

Minho hadn’t really gotten used to the space, the people, the burning sun and washing ocean that was so different from anywhere he had ever lived. That he could remember.

He and Thomas laid next to each other on the small sleeping mat on their backs, saying nothing yet hearing everything. It had just begun to truly sink in for them that Newt was gone, probably clawing his own eyes out somewhere in a street while he had no idea who he was.

That was the thing that got to Minho the most, the fact that Newt would probably die without remembering that anyone had ever loved him. He might even be dead already, lost to the world as a nameless, faceless crank. A cannibal.

A single tear ran down Minho’s cheek, silent yet obvious to the world in its reasoning. Thomas glanced over at him and let out a small sigh. “Try not to think about it, Minho,” he said.

Minho stood up without a word and walked down to the water, felt the sand between his toes and squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t understand why it was him. After everything Newt went through to learn he deserved to be alive, after every little sacrifice Alby made, somehow Minho was the one who ended up in Paradise with Thomas and Brenda.

It was early in the morning, the sun just barely coming up. Minho’s eyes burned with salt and sand and tears, the pain of everything doubling up inside him and threatening to force its way out. 

He opened his eyes slowly, staring at the distant sun and wishing it was the same one he had seen in the Glade, back when Newt would laugh into his shoulder and things seemed like they could end up brighter.

Suddenly, as if cutting through the beauty of the morning, a pained grunt sounded milliseconds before a soft  _ thump,  _ right to Minho’s left. 

Ever the Runner, he turned quickly, snapping his head around to see who was there. And, lying flat against the sandy patch of grass that led to the beach, was Newt.

Minho simply took in Newt’s pale form, his roughly shorn blonde hair falling in tiny patterns across his face. He was covered in blood, a mix of black and red, and there was a clean, white bandage wrapped around his chest. Minho didn’t know what to do except stare at Newt’s slumped body, his mind empty of any thoughts clear enough to identify. Until Newt coughed, a tiny, rebellious sound, and Minho lept into action.

He ran, sprinting the fifty yards in almost no time, flying across the sand until he reached Newt. Half a second before his fingers could push Newt’s hair out of his eyes he stopped, realizing that this could all be one of WCKD’s challenges.

“Newt?” Minho whispered in disbelief, settling for a verbal answer despite how much he wanted to reach out to him. “Is that you?”

“Minho,” Newt croaked out, only opening his eyes halfway. It was enough, though, for Minho to see that they were  _ brown,  _ brown as they had been in the Glade, under the sunlight as he ran through the Maze. Brown as they were under the blinding curse of the scorch. Not black. Not holding the Flare.

Very slowly, Minho looked down to Newt’s right wrist as it laid pale on the grass. Pale enough to see his veins, a thin blue against the soft expanse of skin.

He choked out a sob, gripping onto the blades of grass closest to him and ripping them out of the earth. “Newt, you shank,” he uttered shakily, holding onto the sight of Newt’s chestnut eyes. “If this isn’t real, I’ll find you and throw you off the damn planet.”

Newt’s cracked lips turned up so slightly, just enough for Minho to see. “It’s real,” he said, throwing the last of Minho’s resolve into the wind. He lunged forward, capturing Newt in a fierce embrace and sobbing the whole way down.

“Careful, there,” Newt whispered, so full of pain that Minho sprung up again immediately and looked straight to the bandage on his chest.

“What…” Minho’s hands flew to the pile of cloth, seeing the rusty red blood on it just as Newt passed out from pain, his eyes rolling into his head as he went limp. Minho grabbed his hand, squeezing tightly to the still-warm skin there. “ _ Brenda! _ ” He screamed, louder than he had ever said anything before. “ _ Brenda! Come here! It’s Newt! _ ”

***

Minho held tight to Newt’s hand, still not letting go even as Brenda ran around in a frenzy. “How did this even- hand me that bottle, Minho- happen? Where did he- no, the other one, come on-”

“I don’t know, okay?” Minho shoved the right bottle at Brenda, tapping his leg against the ground impatiently. “I was just sitting on the beach, and then he was shucking  _ here,  _ I have no idea where he came from.”

“Okay, okay,” Brenda responded breathlessly, her eyes focused on Newt’s chest as she ripped the bandages off. “Holy  _ sh- _ ”

“What the shuck is that?” Minho cut her off, staring at the blackened, bloody wound.

“It looks, I don’t know, maybe a stab wound?” She guessed, reaching automatically for something to clean it with. “This is going to sting. You still holding onto his hand?”

Minho’s face flushed red. “Yes.”

“Keep holding it,” Brenda advised, then she ripped open a small package and pressed a wet cloth to Newt’s wound.

He gasped himself awake, crying out in pain through gritted teeth. “Shh,” Minho tried to comfort him. “Brenda’s cleaning your cut. It’s going to be better soon, okay?”

“‘S not a cut,” Newt mumbled, looking down to where Brenda continued to clean him up. “It’s a stab wound.”

“How in the world did you get it?” Brenda asked, securing the area with new bandages. “How in the world are you here?”

“Hold on, why do you have a stab wound?” Minho questioned, taking in the steady clench of Newt’s jaw as he tried to get through the pain.

Newt blinked a few times, turning his head up to look at Minho. “It’s, er, kind of a long story. Shuck, that hurts.”

“Sorry,” Brenda said. “I’m almost done- wait. Fuck, Newt, what’s  _ this? _ ” She pointed to a tiny blue injection site on Newt’s right arm. “Did you- how did you get the serum?”

“Teresa gave it to me,” he started, his voice rough and hoarse but definingly British and so  _ there  _ that Minho wanted to cry all over again. “I- I got stabbed. In the street. And then Teresa found me, I guess she figured Thomas wouldn’t come to her, so she found me half dead and patched me up best she could. Then she went, I don’t know, probably back to WCKD. But before she left, she told me about a safe haven. Paradise.”

“That’s where we are now,” Brenda said, glancing at Minho, who was all too focused on the clear brown of Newt’s eyes.

“Yeah. She told me that’s where Tommy was taking everyone, but that I had to hurry and get to a Flat Trans or it would close. So I found it, fast as I could, and walked through it. Then I blacked out until today, when I kept walking until I saw the civilization. Then I just gave up, figured someone would find me.” He smiled at Minho, the faintest thing. “And you did.”

“I’ll always find you,” Minho told him softly. 

Brenda glanced between the two of them, then stood slowly. “I’ll give you two a moment. Here, take this, clean yourself up with it,” she said, handing Newt a wet towel.

“Let me take care of that,” Minho said, taking the towel and wiping carefully at the crusted blood on Newt’s face. He worked silently for a moment, watching Newt’s eyes flutter shut as he finally let himself relax.

“I knew you’d find me,” he said finally. “Even when I haven't wanted you to, you’ve always found me.”

“Stop talking,” Minho told him, trying and failing to sound stern. “Save your strength. I don’t want you passing out on me again like a little baby.”

Newt laughed, and the sound was so familiar that Minho stopped moving for a moment just to take it in. “Stop telling me what to do,” Newt said, struggling to sit up.

“If you’re not going to shut up, at least don’t try to get up, shuck, Newt,” Minho cursed, dropping the towel and moving to cradle Newt in his arms, keeping him stable.

“I can get up if I want, shank,” Newt mumbled, wincing as he pulled himself into a sitting position. 

Minho just shook his head, marvelling at the fact that this boy wouldn’t even let himself rest for a second after almost dying. “You clearly haven’t changed.”

Newt chuckled again at that, low in Minho’s ear. “I’ve missed you, love,” he whispered, sounding like smiles and bliss, rolled up in layers of stubborn insistence. 

“I missed you so much,” Minho managed to respond, just before Newt leaned up and pressed their mouths together, slowly yet surely.

They stayed like that, tangled up in each other and revelling in the sheer joy of closeness. Newt reached up and fisted his fingers in Minho’s hair, holding on tight. Minho sighed, just barely audibly, hoping against all logic that this was real.

Minho pulled back, his eyes shining, and nearly lost his shit at the sight of Newt, smiling and happy and  _ alive  _ right in front of him. “Hey, shank,” he whispered.

“Hello, Minho,” Newt replied, pursing his lips. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Yeah, you really caught me by surprise.” Minho glanced down at the mess of sterile bandages on Newt’s chest. “You need to rest.”

“Please,” Newt said with a snort. “I just got cured of the Flare. I can do anything.”

“ _ Newt? _ ” A voice asked in disbelief from a few yards away.

Minho turned around, instinctively gripping Newt’s arm, to see that Thomas stood in the doorway to the small hut, his mouth open and his eyes blown wide.

Newt just smiled his slightly crooked smile. “Hey, Tommy.”

“But you- I- you  _ died! _ ” Thomas exclaimed, looking between the two of them once and shaking his hand. “I watched you die, you- you  _ stabbed yourself _ Newt, shuck, what?”

“You stabbed yourself?” Minho asked him.

Newt waved a hand. “That’s a story for another time. Yeah, Tommy, I did. But I survived.”

Thomas stared at them, his eyes widening further at the sight of Minho’s arms wrapped around Newt. “Wait, but what… what about the Flare?”

“Give the man a minute to breathe, Thomas, he’s tired,” Minho said, moving to lie on his side next to Newt.

“Slim it. I’m fine.” Newt turned to Thomas, who was still looking at the two of them like he wasn’t certain they actually existed. “I was cured. Teresa shot me full of whatever she was doing with your blood, and now I’m good as new. Well, except for the bloody stab wound, but it’ll heal.”

Thomas sat on the ground, one hand on his forehead. “How did you get here? How did you even know where we were?”

“You have Teresa to thank for that, too,” Newt said, softer this time. “I’m guessing she didn’t make it out, then?”

“No,” Thomas said, shaking his head. “No, she’s gone.” Newt glanced at Minho, who nodded slightly in confirmation. “But you’re not,” Thomas said, a smile breaking out over his face. “Newt, you have no idea how happy I am that you’re okay.”

“Thanks, Tommy. It’s good to see you, too.”

Thomas just continued to stare at Newt and Minho’s overlapping bodies, shaking his head slightly. “Has this been going on… the entire time?”

“No, Thomas, we just liked to sleep in the same square foot of space at the Glade for platonic reasons,” Minho deadpanned.

“Yes, it has,” Newt said in response to Thomas’s blank stare.

“Oh.  _ Oh.  _ Okay, then.” Thomas stood and attempted to walk backwards out of the hut, almost falling over in the process. “I’ll just- I’ll just let you two get back to it then,” he said, turning and running off in the same direction Brenda had.

“I thought he’d never leave,” Newt murmured against Minho’s arm.

Minho laughed, letting his head drop to Newt’s shoulder. Then he looked up to see Newt dozing off. “Newt.”

His eyes snapped open, and he raised one eyebrow. “Minho?”

“Go to sleep. You’re safe here. You need your rest.”

“Alright, alright.” Newt reached out and wrapped an arm around Minho’s torso, pulling him closer. “Only if you stay.”

Minho wrapped his arms around Newt, breathing him in. “Of course.”

They fell asleep like that, safe and together at last.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this one! I’m a long time fan of the maze runner, I’ve just never written anything for it before that ended up being good enough to post. If you liked this, please let me know in a comment, because I love hearing from you!


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